Page 52 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

You and I were a mistake.

Those fucking words would haunt me forever.

“Someone is waiting for me. Blood Diamond.” A deep, accented voice traveled over the restaurant. “I see her. Don’t bother walking me over.”

I followed the voice and found a man, about six feet tall with dark skin and dark eyes. He wore a camouflage uniform, except it was—the catalog flashed through my mind of different military uniforms—it was Ghana’s. Benefits of having a photographic memory. The question was what was the Ghana military doing here?

He prowled through the restaurant, uncaring who or what was in his way. And he didn’t stop until he was at Odette’s table. I watched fear flicker in her expression before a professional mask slid on her face.

She muttered something but she was too far away; I couldn’t hear a fucking thing. The fucker in the uniform grinned—viciously—his eyes lingering on her chest. Anger unlike anything I’d ever experienced before settled deep in my stomach, and I clenched my fists.

“What in the fuck is that guy doing here?” Vasili hissed.

My eyes darted to Vasili, then followed his gaze. His attention was on the man sitting across from Odette. I took in his face; something about him looked familiar. Yet I couldn’t place him. I couldn’t remember. I had a photographic memory, yet when Odette was around, my brain just stopped functioning and my cock took over.

Fucking bad!

“Who is it?” I asked Vasili.

“It’s Danso Sabir. A contract killer for the diamond smugglers in Africa.”

My brows furrowed. Why was he talking to Odette? Then my brother’s comment from yesterday rushed to the forefront of my mind. The Swan sisters’ names came up on the dark web in connection with diamonds. And here she was now—meeting a diamond smuggler. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

I returned my attention to her table, tension creeping up my spine. No wonder Odette was nervous. She tried to hide it, but I could see it in her shuddering breaths and each of her trembling fingers.

Danso leaned across the table, whispering something, his eyes flashing with something sadistic and dark. Whatever he said had Odette stiffening and leaning away from him. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a black velvet bag and pushed it across the table, careful not to let her fingers touch him.

My ears buzzed, disappointment washing over me.

“Are you sure she’s a doctor?” Alexei questioned, his voice sounding distorted. “And not a diamond smuggler?”

My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding as I watched the transaction. Odette went to pull her hand back, but she wasn’t quick enough. The fucker grabbed her by the wrist. Anger simmered in my blood. It burned in my throat, in my chest, and covered my vision with a red mist.

He touched her.

Odette jerked her hand, trying to free herself from his grip, and before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet, storming through the restaurant.

“Get your hands off her,” I hissed, dark warning reverberating. Taking advantage of Danso’s surprise, Odette yanked her hand back. She stood up abruptly, her chair falling behind her with a loud thud that brought everyone’s attention our way.

The tension around us was louder than the music of the trumpeter. Louder than the drunken shouts swarming the French Quarter. Guests cast curious and cautious glances our way, but nobody dared move. Except the Nikolaevs. I didn’t need to look behind me to know they’d shuffled their women behind them, and their hands were probably reaching for their weapons.

Danso’s eyes darted behind me, confirming my suspicions.

“She’s all yours,” he finally said, standing up and brushing off his sleeves. As if he could see anything on that ugly uniform. He shot Odette a meaningful look. “For now.”

Odette didn’t move, frozen in her spot. Both of us watched the fucker walk away. Her hands trembled, mine were fisted at my sides. It took all my self-restraint not to go after him.

Once he was out of sight, I turned my attention to Odette. Her bottom lip trembled as she took it between her teeth as if she were scared to break down. She admitted to me a long time ago she wasn’t much of a crier. The fact that she was close to tears attested to how upset she was.

“What in the fuck are you doing here meeting with a diamond smuggler?” I hissed.

As if my words snapped her out of whatever spell she’d been under, her eyes flashed and her lips thinned.

“Mr. Ashford, let’s get one thing straight.” She bent over to pick up her purse off the floor and fuck if my cock didn’t respond to the movement. Her round ass was just a few inches away from me and images of her naked and bent over the bed, love-sofa, chair—every piece of furniture in that hotel room—as I fucked her flashed through my mind. Not helpful at all. She straightened up, squaring her shoulders and meeting my gaze head-on. “Whatever I do or don’t do is none of your fucking business. Understood?”

I took a step toward her, but Odette stood her ground, her chin tilting up in her stubbornness. Just the way I remembered it. Except, back then she did it when she was flirting with me.

“He’s bad news,” I gritted.